


Flock and Fly Together

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Autistic Fitz, Autistic Jemma, Gen, Sensory Overload, Sign Language, Special Interests, Stim Toys, autistic characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She definitely doesn't think he's weird. Or, at the very least, she's a little weird too. </p>
<p>(Cause us autistic folks deserve something nice in april)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flock and Fly Together

**Author's Note:**

> WHERE are all my autistic Fitzsimmons fics ?? (well, here's one. but where are all the others we deserve)

He wasn’t sure when the dining hall had started to fill up, or when the dull buzz of conversation had turned into a roar, only that it was now ringing in his ears and making his head spin, every sharp clink of utensils accompanied by a pinch in his skull. Maybe it wasn’t him, and it had just gotten peculiarly loud? He blinked rapidly as the room seemed to distort before him, the colors overly vibrant, people’s clothing blending together in his vision. Suddenly all the smells in the room were overwhelming—he could almost taste the ketchup someone had just squirted onto their plates four tables down. 

Definitely sensory overload then. Great. 

Fitz looked back down at his plate, which had been mostly abandoned in favor of scribbling down notes about his latest project. He’d barely eaten half of his food, but the emptiness of his stomach seemed dull and far away compared to everything that was happening elsewhere. He could try to finish eating, just ride it out and hope for the best (not that that ever worked in the past). Maybe he could actually do it this time. 

Someone across the hall dropped their tray, plates and a cup banging noisily onto the ground. Fitz’s hands flew to his ears, blocking them urgently, and he squeezed his eyes shut, breath coming out in a sharp hiss. Fuck, it hurt. He should’ve been paying more attention when people started coming in for dinner, and gotten out then. He always did this, and it always went the same way. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

A hand settled on his shoulder, heavy and burning, and he pulled back with a strangled gasp, eyes flying open. Oh, of course. Of course it was her, here to see him like this. His day just couldn’t get better. 

Jemma Simmons was squatting next to his chair, gazing at him with furrowed brows, mouthing something. Or, no, not mouthing. Fitz took his hands off his ears. 

“Are you okay?” She asked again, settling her hand on his armrest. 

He opened his mouth, expecting something like _yes, I’m fine_ or _no not really_ or even _please go away_ to come out. Something. But instead they were both met with silence. Fitz swallowed harshly, and then tried again. But there was some sort of block between his brain and his mouth. Nothing was working right. 

Did he seriously just go nonverbal? While she was staring at him all concerned like that? Fuck. Fuck _fuck_. 

No. He could do this. He could do this. He tried a third time, pushing against the mental block with all his might, until something sounding like a garbled whine fell out from between his lips. Well, that was … not what he intended. 

Jemma seemed to get something from it, though, because she slung off her backpack and started rooting around in it, while Fitz just sat there and seethed at himself for getting into this mess in the first place, and then not having the grace to be able to handle it like a normal fucking person. Jemma’s presence, for whatever reason, did seem to dull his overactive senses just a bit, though. Maybe it was a focus thing. 

Jemma let out a triumphant “ah!” and then something was being placed over his head. Fitz started, and then stilled. Everything had gone quiet. Blessedly quiet. Noise canceling headphones. She was a godsend. 

She knocked her thumbs together twice, eyebrows raised, and it took him a moment to realize she was signing at him. _Better?_

He quickly nodded, and then touched his fingers to his chin and pulled down. _Thank you._

She smiled at him, bright as the sun, and then motioned to his food. _Finished?_

He shrugged, and then nodded again, so she put her backpack back over her shoulders and then picked up his tray, setting it on top of her own—which was still full of food, he noticed—and set off toward the exit, glancing back at him when he only stared after her. She inclined her head, waiting for him, and after a moment of getting himself together he followed after her, rubbing his forehead as the room spun lazily around him. She set the trays down on the conveyor belt and then grabbed loosely at the sleeve of his sweater, pulling him the rest of the way out of the dining hall and through the dorm until they were outside. She gave him a moment to adjust to the brightness, and then rounded on him. 

_You okay now?_

He took a few steadying breaths and nodded. 

_Overload?_ she spelled out. 

Fitz realized he wouldn’t need the headphones anymore, and he took them off jerkily, handing them back to her, a blush making its way onto his face. Outside it was quiet except for the quiet chirp of crickets, cool and breezy. 

He was grateful she’d shown up when she did, and pulled him out of there, but the whole thing was embarrassing. He’d probably just messed up the tentative friendship he’d spent months building, like he had with the few others he’d actually cared about. Although she didn’t seem like she thought he was weird or anything. And she’d known exactly what to do … 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, surprised when it actually managed to come out of his mouth in a coherent way. 

“Happens to the best of us.” Jemma shrugged, and then squinted at him, evaluating. “Are you autistic?” She jerked her head back, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, that’s rude, isn’t it? Not because- I mean it’s not bad if you are—I am too—I was just- well people have told me it’s rude to ask. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, forget I said anything.” She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Fitz couldn’t help the little laugh that spilled out of him, the tight feeling in his chest lifting. “It’s … it’s fine, I am.” 

“Oh! Good. Or- I mean-” She let out a noise of frustration, pressing her fingers against her neck, but then she was laughing too. “Are you doing anything right now? I thought maybe we could do the chem homework together.” 

“Ah, yeah, yes, sure, that’s … that’d be good, yeah,” he stuttered out, his words still not working quite right. He knew he’d made the right choice when she grinned at him. Maybe it was still the sensory overload that was making him feel faint (no, said a little voice in the back of his head, it was definitely her smile). 

“Great. Um, library?” 

He chewed thoughtfully on his knuckle, and then quickly pulled it away as he realized what he was doing. “Maybe, just … my room? It’s quiet.” 

She nodded decisively. “Lead the way.” 

\--

Jemma swung her legs in the air where she was laying on her stomach in his bed, the only clean place in his room. He’d quickly shoved some of his dirty clothes into the corner, but his room was still a mess—empty takeout containers, stacks of books, and half-finished projects strewn about the place. It was her first time in there, and he hadn’t quite yet shaken off the nervousness, but she’d barely given it a glance before plopping down on his bed and pulling out her books. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bedframe. 

To be honest, he wasn’t getting a lot of homework done. He’d listened to her ramble about things only barely related to the chapter for an hour, which he didn’t mind nearly as much as he should’ve, and then he sat and puzzled over the questions silently. Eventually a poke to his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to see her studying him. 

“Do you have a special interest?” she asked. 

“Monkeys,” Fitz supplied. 

She smiled. “Oh, that’s a good one.” 

“What about you?” 

“Well, biochem, if you couldn’t tell. But, um … ” She glanced toward the poster on his wall, a swirling cosmos of purple and red. “And astronomy. I really love the stars.” 

He followed her gaze to the poster. “Stars are nice,” he said, and then winced, because how much more stupid could he sound, honestly. He hadn’t made a great impression of himself this evening. 

“What’s your favorite type of monkey?” She crossed her arms and laid her head on them, looking like she really wanted to know, and wasn’t just asking to be nice. 

“Well …” He shuffled around to face her, perking up, all the nervousness from earlier gone. “I love all of them. But especially capuchins. And gorillas, because they can learn sign language. Mostly capuchins though, with their wee little hands. I’d love to teach a capuchin how to sign, just to see them motioning around, all tiny and excited.” 

“What about bonobos?” 

Fitz scrunched up his nose, squinting at her. “They’re very … raunchy.” 

Jemma laughed, nodding, her ankles hooking together in the air. “They are. We’re learning about them in my human behavior class. They’re really interesting, though. Do you think apes have languages? We’ve talked about that too but no one can come to an agreement.” 

“Oh definitely. Apes are so smart. Orangutans have dialects, you know. I’m sure the greater apes have some form of language that we just haven’t deciphered yet. I mean they can utilize it, at the very least, so their brains have the functional processing for language. There was this one study …” He gaped for a moment, and then shook his head. “Sorry.” 

She propped herself up on her elbows. “What for?” 

“No, it’s fine. You’re probably not interested.” She was just listening to be polite, like people did, waiting for him to eventually stumble to a stop far too into a monologue about something that no one else wanted to hear. He didn’t want to bore her, because when people were bored they usually went away. He was particularly skilled at that. 

“Try me,” she bit back, like it had been a challenge, which is definitely not how he’d meant it. 

“No, I just- I don’t want to bore you.” 

She settled and smiled a little, just a quirk at the edge of her lips. “I did just infodump on you for like an hour, I think it would only be fair.” 

He glanced down at his tangled fingers, and then at his poster on the wall. “Are there any monkey constellations?” 

She shook her head, letting the topic drop. “Well, there’s the Monkey Head Nebula in the Orion constellation.” 

He pouted. “But no real constellations? Like complete with great mythological tales about whatever the monkey did to get into the stars?” 

She laughed. “No, unfortunately not. Is that what you would choose if you could make a constellation, a monkey?” 

“Oh without a doubt, wouldn’t even have to think about it. What about you?” 

He watched as she played with her own fingers, letting them bend and twirl together as she thought. “Well there was this man named Nicolas Louis de Lacaille, who in 1750 traveled to the Cape of Good Hope and catalogued almost 10,000 stars. He ended up naming a bunch of new constellations that we still use today—they were all named after technology and science instead of myth, constellations like Microscopium and Telescopium and Horologium.” She shrugged, twining her fingers together and resting her chin on them. “That would probably be me. Name it after a centrifuge or something.” 

He hummed. “I think a monkey would be easier to spot. What would a centrifuge constellation even look like, just a square?” 

She snorted. “It would have a lid.” 

“Ah,” he intoned dryly. “A lid. Of course. That solves all the problems.” 

“Don’t diss my constellation. You’re just upset no one else wants a monkey.” 

“Plenty of people would want a monkey! I could do a poll, right now, I’m sure there are lots of people even right here on campus that would back the monkey idea.” 

“We’re training for sciops, I’m sure more people would want the centrifuge.” 

“You wish.” 

Jemma’s stomach growled loudly, and a wave of guilt washed over Fitz. “You never got to eat,” he said, ears burning. 

She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“No, no- well- I don’t really have anything suitable here. Let’s go out. Let me buy you something.” 

She shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t.” 

“Please? You helped me out earlier, I want to repay you.” 

Her smile looked a little sad. “You don’t have to repay me, Fitz. You’re my friend, that’s what friends do.” 

Fitz glanced away, his stomach twisting in a not entirely unpleasant way. “Well then how about one friend buying another’s dinner for no reason at all?” 

She twisted her lips, evaluating. “Next time’s on me.” 

_Next time._ “Deal.” 

\--

Fitz stood outside the doors of the auditorium, trying not to flap the nervousness out of his hands. He already got enough looks being one of the youngest ones on campus, he didn’t need to give people any other reason to look at him funny. But he could feel the energy building in each of the digits, a tingling burn that only abated when they were in movement. It would take at least half of his concentration to keep them still, and he was already worried enough about the test. Thirty percent of his grade, and he had forgone studying in favor of building a mockup of one of his latest inventions. Probably a bad idea. But hindsight, right? 

God, if he tensed his jaw any more it was going to crack off. 

Maybe if he just gave in a little bit. He jostled his wrists back and forth at his sides, fingers tapping out an inaudible rhythm in the air. Some of the burning went away, but it wasn’t enough. His wrists flapped harder, fingers brushing back and forth against his jeans. Okay. Steady breaths. He tried to keep a whine out of the sound as he blew his breath out in a big whoosh, stifling the urge to shake his whole body, let his arms go until he thought he might fly. This wasn’t the place, he would have to work with these people. When he got back to his room, he could. 

“Fitz!” Jemma bounded to his side, out of breath but beaming. They’d spent most of the last few weeks together, and seeing her never failed to alleviate some of the pressure in his chest. “Are you ready for the test?” 

Of course she was excited. “No,” he admitted, petulantly. 

She drew in her smile to give him a pout. “You said you would study.” 

“I got distracted.” 

“Of course you did. Well anyways I brought you some things that might help.” She threw off her backpack to begin searching through it. 

He peered in. “A cheat sheet?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Leopold, I of all people would help you cheat at chemistry.” 

“Well you’re the most qualified one here.” 

She glanced up to smirk at him, a sly little thing. “I am, aren’t I? But no, what I brought is much more fun. And legal.” 

“I don’t think cheating is illegal, Simmons.” 

“Well it’s SHIELD, you never know. Oh, here’s the first thing.” She pulled out a little toy and shoved it into his hands. It was multicolored and made of linked, curved plastic pieces. 

“What is it?” he asked, holding it up to his face. 

“A tangle. You play with it in your hands, like this.” She took it back and manipulated it, twisting it around her fingers. He watched as the little toy restructured itself in smooth motions. “It’s just something to do while you think. I know you like to tinker, but you can’t exactly do that during a test, so this is the next best thing.” 

He took it back from her, giving it an experimental twist. It felt nice in his hand. Calming. Already the tingling was starting to fade. “Thank you.” 

“One more thing.” She pulled a napkin out of her backpack and unfolded it, revealing a bright blue monkey charm on a necklace string. “I hope this isn’t too weird. I noticed you chew on your knuckles a lot and I thought this might be better. It’s completely safe, no weird flavor. And this way you keep both hands free.” 

He accepted it gently, running his finger over the smiling monkey’s cheek. “Where did you get this?” 

“Oh, well-“ She smiled self-consciously, pushing back hair that was already behind her ears. “I made it in lab. See, I have one too.” She pulled her own necklace out from under her blouse: a black rocket ship. “I can make something different if you don’t like it.” 

“No, no! I love it, Simmons, it’s perfect. It’s amazing. Thank you.” His throat felt tight, and he cleared it. He stuck the ear between his teeth, grinning around it shyly. It felt pliant, but not so soft he could bite through. “I think you just raised me a letter grade,” he mumbled past the necklace. 

She beamed. Her thumb twisted a layered ring on her finger, the metal clinking together quietly. “Well, what are friends for, if not to provide stim toys?” 

He clasped the string behind his neck and let the necklace fall to his chest. The tangle glided through his fingers. “You’ve done a lot more than that.”

Her gaze fell down to her ring, a blush lighting her cheeks. “You have too. More than I think you know.” 

Fitz’s lips twitched into a smile, his nerves about the test forgotten, replaced by something else entirely. “We’re good together. Better.” 

She nodded. “I think so too.” She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling. “We stick together, then? Help each other out.” 

“That _is_ what friends do.” 

Her laugh made his smile widen into a grin. “More than that, though. Maybe … partners?” 

Fitz bit his lip so his grin wouldn’t betray how fluttery he felt. “Yeah. Yeah I like that. Partners.” 

The doors of the auditorium opened and students began filing in. The test didn’t seem nearly as daunting as it had just minutes prior. Whatever the outcome, he knew he’d still have Jemma at the end of it. 

“Shake on it?” she asked. 

He transferred the tangle and then held out his hand, not quite able to meet her eyes. Her hand slipped into his and they shook firmly, and then let themselves linger, just a little longer than necessary. 

“You ready?”

“I am now.”


End file.
